Collecting Names of the Lovers That Went Wrong
by the.eye.does.not.SEE
Summary: If there are to be regrets, he will be the one to have them, and not her. [Allison Knight/Kurt Weller, undercurrents of Jane Doe/Kurt Weller] Post-1x09


**Title** : _Collecting Names of the Lovers That Went Wrong_ (1/1)

 **Universe** : _Blindspot_ , 1x09

 **Rating** : PG-13

 **Pairing** : Allison Knight/Kurt Weller (Jane Doe/Kurt Weller)

 **Summary** : If there are to be regrets, he will be the one to have them, and not her.

I can't lie, if Jane were out of the picture, I would ship the **hell** out of Kurt and Allison. Talk about a made-for-each-other _mess._

 **Soundtrack:** "Youth" - Daughter

x x x

 _And if you're in love, then you are the lucky one_

' _Cause most of us are bitter over someone._

x x x

It's just after one in the morning when he calls. She doesn't even look at her cellphone when she hears it go off, just swipes the screen open blindly and presses it against her ear. When she hears his voice on the other end, mumbling, asking if she's still awake, she can't say she's all that surprised it's him. Relieved, sure. But not surprised.

When she watched him leave earlier this evening with Jane, Allison put her odds at about fifty-fifty. She had half a chance of getting a call like this. And she had half a chance of the sight of those two, walking off together looking picture-perfect, being her last memory of him.

They make a nice-looking pair, she has to admit. The tux and the ball gown helped, of course, but there was something more to them, more of a feeling than an actual _look._ It manifested itself as an awkwardness—albeit one so endearing that even Allison found herself smiling a little bit, watching from the sidelines as they looked each other over in their formalwear—but Allison knows that once they figure their shit out, said awkwardness will very easily morph into a deep affection. An adoration, on Kurt's part, if Allison's being totally honest.

She had seen it in his eyes today already. From the moment Kurt had spotted Jane over her shoulder, he'd been lost. To her, to himself, to the whole world. He'd been struck dumb, just by the sight of the woman in a full-length dress and a few touches of makeup.

The only time Kurt had ever looked at Allison with that much attention and interest had been when she had been naked—and even then, she only got _that_ look sometimes.

Yet Jane had captured his attention fully clothed. The dress had even had sleeves down to her wrists, for God's sake.

But Allison was still the one to get the call. It was a late-night call. A last-resort call. A desperate call. But still.

She got the call.

x x x

She starts drinking right after she hangs up the phone with him, because she knows that'll make it easier for both of them. It'll allow him to write this off tomorrow, when he goes into work, says hello to Jane, and starts his day. He'll look at himself in the mirror and he'll be able to think, _We were drunk._

And it will be true.

The outcome would still be the same had they both been sober, Allison knows, but why make him acknowledge that? He seems fond of fantasies these days, if his earlier exploits this evening with Jane were any indication. Why not give him one more to live off of? It'll only be for a night, anyway.

While she waits for his knock on her hotel room door, Allison lies back on her still-made rented bed, collecting her thoughts. It's been nearly two years since she's seen him. She wonders what's changed between them in that time, if anything. He called every once in a while, after she left. It was nothing serious. No pleading, no last-minute plane tickets, no three little words.

Just chats, now and again. And sometimes a little more, if it was late in the night and one of them was feeling particularly lonesome.

But the calls have petered out in the last few months or so. As she nurses her little airplane bottle of cheap whiskey from the mini-bar—and longs for that Lagavulin she tempted Kurt with earlier—Allison wonders if that's about the time that Jane showed up, too. It would make sense. She _is_ captivating, tattoos or no. Allison can give her that much. For now, at least.

x x x

Kurt looks like absolute shit when she opens the door. So much so that the first thing she thinks of to say is to ask him if he drove here. But then she remembers that he only lives about a twenty minute's walk from her hotel. _Good,_ she thinks to herself. _It'll be good for him to get some air after this._

She leans against the doorframe, propping the over-weighted hotel door open just an extra inch or two with her foot so he can see a little inside, but not too much. She purposefully left only one light on in there, the lamp on the coffee table. She knows it makes the room look like an irresistibly dim refuge behind her, waiting for him. A place to give in to vices and leave behind secrets and somehow walk away unscathed.

They've played this game a couple times before, so she knows what works with him.

"So…" Allison finds his eyes, allowing a little smile to turn up the edges of her lips. She can't resist toying with him now that he's actually here. "Looks like Jane got tired of playing the wife mighty fast, huh?" She crosses her arms over her chest, and lifts her chin to appraise him. "You barely lasted four hours. What went wrong in fantasyland, Mr. Weller?"

Kurt sighs heavily, and lifts a hand to wipe the side of his face, as if that might remove some of the exhaustion from the day. "Can we please not, Allie? It's been a really long night already, okay?"

Across the threshold, she assesses him, deciding. He's at her mercy, here. He's the one who called. The one who showed up. The one who's asking…

She could turn him away, if she wanted. She could put a price on the door—and she knows he would pay it. She could do whatever she wants.

But they've known each other a long time. And he doesn't look good. So, in the end, she just offers him a sad smile, gives him a nod, and holds open the door for him to pass through. Just like old times.

"All right. Come on in then, Kurt."

x x x

For a while, they do nothing more than sit and drink silence, trading the liquor back and forth on the couch. He'd been kind enough to bring a bottle of Lagavulin with him, and she smiled at the gesture when he had pulled it out of its little brown paper bag and showed her the label. Always the gentleman, he let her take the first pull.

As they pass the bottle back and forth now, feeling it getting a little lighter each time, Allison watches him. He looks exhausted, sitting there on the other side of her shitty standard-issue hotel couch: his knees are a little too high for it, and he keeps shifting in his seat, so she knows his back must be bothering him again.

She can think of more than a few ways to make him comfortable, and to help erase the stress of the day. Out of the corner of her eye, she glances over at the bed behind them wistfully. But she knows better than to start things between them. Rejection from him is not an easy thing to take, and she's had enough of it already today. Besides, he's the one who called. If he wants more than silence and booze, he'll have to ask her for it. And he'll have to be polite.

x x x

A half-hour passes, and yet he still hasn't said anything, or done anything, or even given her a look that could _mean_ anything. She's getting impatient, and the whisky isn't helping anymore; it's only making things worse. She didn't say he could come over just so they could sit in silence and nurse their private grievances like two sad old men at a bar.

So when he next passes her the Lagavulin, she caps it and sets it on the floor, out of his reach. There's a cry of protest forming on his lips, but she shakes her head, and he lets out a defeated groan, his head falling back on the couch behind him.

"Fine," he mutters, bitter. "What now, Allie?"

"Why don't you tell me?" she shoots back, glaring at him across the couch. She kicks out a leg from under her, catches him in the thigh. He hardly winces. "What are we supposed to be doing here?"

"We're _supposed_ to be drinking," he replies, his eyes now cutting to hers. "But you put a stop to that, didn't you?"

"I'd say you've had enough."

"And I'd say I'm not even getting started."

Allison can't help but scoff. "Please. Three more drinks and you'd be down for the count. Out all night."

"Believe it or not, that's kind of the point of my being here, A."

Allison blinks, blindsided for a moment by the somber tone in his voice. " _That's_ why you came here? To drink yourself into a stupor?" She can't keep the hurt out of her own voice, and she hates herself for it. She has no claim on him anymore; no reason to feel betrayed. A call in the middle of the night is hardly any kind of promise. And she's the one who left, after all. _Remember that._ "You—You could've just gotten drunk by yourself at home. You didn't need to call me to do it."

Kurt shakes his head. "No, I couldn't've." Quietly, he adds, "Sarah doesn't like it when I get hammered at home."

Allison nods, accepting that without comment. Though it doesn't help her current situation, she understands where Sarah's coming from. Sawyer already doesn't have a dad; he doesn't need a drunk for an uncle, too.

Without a word, she picks up the bottle, uncaps it, and hands it back to him. She watches him take a long pull. Better he kills his liver here than there.

x x x

"So… What's this thing between you and Jane like?"

Kurt groans, pushing his head back into the couch cushions in objection to the question. At some point in the last hour or so, he migrated to the floor, and now he sits, sprawled out there, propped up by the front of the couch. He has one hand on the bottle of whisky, but it's been awhile since he's brought it to his lips.

"C'mon, A," he mutters, the words starting to run together. He turns his head, and somehow catches her eye despite his inebriation. "Let's not do this. Please."

"Why not? What's so bad about telling me what's going on there?"

She just wants to hear him say the words, just so she'll know, once and for all. If he loves her, they can stop here. She won't take him from someone he truly cares about. But if it isn't serious yet...

"I know you don't want to hear it, Allie, and I definitely don't want to talk about it. So let's just drop it."

"I _do_ want to hear it."

Allison surprises even herself by telling the truth. She _does_ want to hear what he has to say; she wants to know what he knows. She wants to know where Jane came from, and what the deal is between her and Kurt. She _has_ to know where he stands with Jane, because without knowing that, Allison can't begin to know where hestands with _her._

And, selfishly, she wants to know how far they've gone. Have they kissed? Spent a night together yet? Or are they still at the longing looks and casual-but-electric touches phase? That part is fun with him, she remembers. He's very good at acting nonchalant when he shouldn't be.

She wants to know how many steps Kurt's taken from her, so she knows how many he'll have to take to get back. There's no point in wasting her short time here with him if it will amount to nothing. If they have miles to traverse to get back to where they were…

Or if it's only a few feet…

Following his example, she slides down off the couch and onto the floor, too. She can feel him watching her she pushes the coffee table aside and scoots his way. When he doesn't tell her to stop, she takes it as a good sign. She ends up just sitting just an inch or two away from him, propped up by the front of the couch, too.

"Come on," she encourages, bumping her shoulder against his. "Even an introvert like you needs to vent once in a while. Let's go. Lay it out for me. What happened on the mission, special agent? You two seemed perfectly fine beforehand."

Kurt presses his lips together and keeps his eyes straight ahead as he shakes his head, but he can't fool Allison that easily.

"Come _on_ , Kurt. You and I both know you have no one else to talk to about this—at least, not unless you've gone back to therapy, but that I highly doubt. Your mood swings are too drastic for you to be seeking regular help."

The glare he shoots her is murderous, but she hardly feels it. She's getting close to the nerve, and collateral damage matters little if she ends up hitting it and getting the truth.

"So what was it? Did she say something wrong, or did you? Did she reject you, or were you too scared to even try?" She turns to face him more fully, propping an arm up on the seat of the couch. "Wait, was it like when we were in—"

"It was nothing," Kurt cuts in abruptly, finally having had enough of her. "It was just… Ah," he blows out a breath, throwing his head back against the seat cushion behind them. "Things just got shitty, is all. I… I did something really stupid."

"Well, that's not exactly surprising. What'd you do?"

Kurt sucks in a deep breath beside her, closes his eyes, and leans back against the couch. She watches him curse silently, his lips forming a soundless _Fuck me_ as he either tries to gather the strength to speak or the resolve to stay silent. At this moment, even Allison isn't sure which way he will fall. She's known him for a long time. But she doesn't know him with Jane.

It takes a couple minutes, but he eventually gets it out. Eyes still closed, he tells her:

"I… might've made the mistake of playing along with the cover after the mission was over. Once we got back."

It takes Allison a second to realize what he's getting at. But once she remembers the wedding rings he and Jane had been wearing when they'd left—

"Oh…"

As hard as Allison tries—which might not be hard enough in this instance—she can't hold in a laugh. It bubbles to the surface, first a snort and then a breathless chortle. "Oh, honey, no… You didn't. Please tell me you didn't."

" _Allie_."

She ignores the warning growl in his voice, and charges forward anyway, still laughing. "That isn't even stupid, Kurt, it's _so_ much worse! It's _completely_ and _totally_ —"

"I know what it is, okay?" Kurt cuts in sharply, eyes snapping open as he turns to her. "And I didn't come here so you could make fun of me, Allie, so if you could please shut the hell up—"

"Of course that's why you came here," Allison interrupts. She shakes her head, still grinning. Still trying to wrap her head around it. "Jesus, Weller. I've known you for _five_ years and _I_ stilldon't want to be your wife. You've known Jane, what, three months? Less than that? What were you thinking?"

"I was…" Kurt groans, shaking his head. _I wasn't thinking,_ would be the correct answer. "I was thinking the mission went well, is all. And I was thinking we… We work well together, her and I. And I felt like—"

"You felt like you guys should tie the knot?"

Kurt puts a hand over his eyes, and lets out a low noise of defeat. "She looked at me like I should be institutionalized."

"Rightly so, cap'n."

He laughs a little, dropping his hand and catching her eye. "I can tell you this, you would've _loved_ it. You would've fallen over laughing. You wouldn't've been able to get up."

Allison smiles a little at that, and pats his shoulder.

After allowing him a few seconds of silence in which to wallow in his own idiocy, she glances over at him, eyes teasing. Injecting fake cheer into her voice, she jokes, "So… I take it tomorrow will be a really _great_ day at work, huh? Can't wait!"

"Ah, screw you," Kurt mumbles, but he can't even manage to muster up the malice required, and the insult just comes out sounding weak and dull.

She knows the feeling. She reaches an arm out, wrapping it over his shoulders, and hugs him to her for a moment. "Sorry, bud. Tough break."

He sighs beside her and grabs her hand resting on her shoulder with his in silent thanks. She lets him entwine them, and allows her eyes to fall closed for a moment. When she feels his head fall onto her shoulder, she starts for only a moment before relaxing. Instinctively, she leans over to him as well, pressing her head against his. He replies by squeezing her hand in his, a silent code, and she closes her eyes, breathing him in.

She's glad he isn't touching her anywhere else, because she knows her heart's beating too fast and her blood is running much too quickly, and he doesn't need to feel those things. Not yet.

For a little while they rest there, propping each other up, neither saying much. She knows he's thinking about Jane as he holds her hand and leans his head against hers, but she finds she doesn't mind much. She knew that going into tonight; she knew where his head would be. From the moment Jane captured his attention from her this afternoon, she had known: whatever might happen between the two of them, Jane will always be right there with them while it happens.

But if it means she gets a chance to be with him, even just for a night, then Allison doesn't care. Being in the Marshals has been incredibly lonely these past few months, more so than she ever expected it to be, and she finds herself craving anything familiar these days. Even when she's with someone, she feels isolated. Friendless. Adrift. The job doesn't really help, either. Erasing people's lives is a lot less fun when you don't have one of your own to fall back on.

Allison hadn't realized how bad it had gotten until she'd come back here, and seen him. Hugging him this morning, even for just that second—it had been like the first breath after drowning. It had been like coming home, though she had never been partial to New York City, nor anywhere near so in love with Kurt that she followed wherever he went. It had just been really nice, is all. Nice to be around someone, for once, who truly knew her. Nice to feel someone's touch and recognize it, instead of having to trek out into the unknown. Nice to be with someone familiar, but more than that, it's nice _be_ familiar to someone.

"You know something?" Kurt wonders aloud, breaking into her thoughts.

Allison tips her head against his. "Hm? What's that?"

"I would never have done something like that with you. _Never._ Had it been you and me out there today…" He shakes his head. "I never would've pulled stupid shit like that afterwards. Never would've even thought of it." Kurt takes a breath, and when he lets it out, she can feel him slump against her just a little bit more. "I miss that," he whispers, almost too quiet for her to hear.

But she does hear. And it twists at her heart. She knows it's supposed to be meant as a compliment. She knows he's trying to say that he takes her seriously, and always has, even from day one. He's trying to say that part of him still longs for the way they worked together back then, even if they didn't always work _well_ together.

But he's also saying that, despite how well they _did_ work together, she's still not worth taking such a risk on. Not even for the chance of it ending in success.

x x x

Not even a full minute passes before she knows exactly what she should do. She should tell him to leave. She should push him off and help him to his feet and show him to the door and help him into a taxi. That's what she should do; that's what a good person, and a kind friend, would do.

But she isn't either of those things, at least not to him. Not tonight.

Allison wouldn't yet mark tonight as their worst—after all, neither of them has started shouting yet, and she hasn't yet tried to throw a punch or an inanimate object at him—but it's definitely getting up there. And it's going to get worse. She can sense it, because she can also sense herself getting desperate. She wants this night over with; it has dragged on long enough, goddamn it, and—

"If you're looking for a way to forget your problems, Kurt, I am right here for you."

 _Doesn't get much more pathetic than that_ , Allison thinks, but she's too far gone to care how she comes off to him, anyway. And besides, it's not like she'll have to face him tomorrow, after this. Why not risk it all? It's not like she has anything to lose. It's not like she'll be coming back. When—if—they re-enact a night like this next time, she doubts he'll even remember what he's said tonight.

"Just say the word. I can hold you over til she comes around."

He shakes his head against her shoulder. "Don't say that, Allie," he whispers, still slumped against her. "I don't want you to do something like that."

His voice is soft, almost mournful. But whether he's grieving his failure with Jane or his failure with her, Allison doesn't want to know. Sometimes it's better to be in the dark with him. If anything, tonight has proven that maybe ignorance is the best policy with him these days.

"You're sure?" she questions gently, prodding him with her shoulder.

He heaves a breath, lifting his head from her shoulder with what sounds like a good deal of effort. She turns to watch him as he straightens up a bit, pushing himself back against the foot of the couch. "You're not a placeholder, Allie," he tells her, his bleary eyes somehow managing to latch onto hers. "Not to me and hopefully not to anyone else. You… You're better than that, and you deserve better than that."

"Yeah, well, so do you. You don't deserve to wait around, Kurt."

He chuckles briefly at that, though there's little humor left in either of them at this point. "My life experiences tend to say otherwise, A."

She smiles a little, and sighs in agreement. "Yeah, so do mine." She waits a beat, and then elbows him lightly in the side. "Good thing we have each other for company, huh? Misery buddies."

"Hm," he nods. "For now. And you leave tomorrow, and who've I got? Nobody."

"You've got Jane," Allison points out.

Kurt scoffs. "Weren't you listening before? No, I don't."

"But you will. I know you will."

He stares at her in surprise, and she has a flash of worry as he watches at her, his eyes calculating. The words had come out of her mouth instinctively; she hadn't even thought about them. They'd just been the truth, the immediate response. But are they what's going to drive him from her? In the eleventh hour, is she going to be fixing things for _them_ and not for herself?

But then, before she can even take a breath with which to voice herself, he tilts his head to the side and smiles a little, eyeing her with that glint of appreciation she hadn't realized she'd missed so much until he'd given it to her. "So confident, you are."

Remembering Jane's awkwardness with Kurt earlier in the day, Allison finds herself smiling, too. It's cruel, she knows. But she can't help it—this could be her in. She only gets this one night with him; that's it. Jane might have the rest of her life. Allison has to use what means she has available. She turns her head to the side, so she can face him more fully. "Missed that, have you?"

"Mm, yeah. A little."

She tilts her head, searching his face. "Just a _little_?" she wonders, drawing out the last word. "That's all? Really?"

He stares at her for a moment too long, stone-faced. She holds her breath, hoping, hoping… And then he breaks. He grins. And she can't help it—the happiness on his face, the laughter that escapes—it makes her stomach go weak. She feels herself ripple with want for him—even after two years. For a second, she takes stock, and wonders how long she'll have to wait, next time, before this feeling goes away for good.

But for now, she gives in to it. She closes her eyes, and leans forward to press her forehead hard against his. But she does not move her mouth to his. That'll be his move to make. It has to be. Because if there are to be regrets, he will be the one to have them, and not her.

"Allie," he whispers, brushing his nose against hers. At the right angle, she can just begin to feel the scratch of his beard against her skin, and it makes her stomach go molten again. She can remember the way it feels, against her skin, her lips, her neck, between her thighs.

"Kurt…" She wants to say something else, anything else, but her mind is blank save for his name. She can feel his breath, warm and damp as it fans over her mouth, her chin, when he exhales. Unconsciously, she can feel her lips part for him, and try as she might, she can't close them. She bumps her forehead against his, grazes his nose with hers, trying to force his hand. She has to clench her fingers into fists at her side so she won't touch him. _Come on,_ she thinks. _It's just one stupid, drunken night. Drop your fucking noble act. I'll be gone tomorrow and then you can have her. Just give me this one night._

"Been awhile, hasn't it," he whispers, lifting a hand to cup the side of side of her face. He takes his time stroking the length of her cheekbone, the tired skin just beneath her eyes, the side of her nose.

He's putting it off on purpose to tease her, to torture her, and yet she can't even hate him for it. Because she knows—just as well as he does—that there's nothing better than the anticipation. That's the reason both of them are here, really. That's the reason it's dragged out this long. It's all for the way _this_ feels, in the moment _just before._

She smiles to herself, knowing now that he can't be too far gone from her now. Maybe he never will be. She reaches a hand up to frame his on her face. His skin is so wonderfully warm against hers, and softer than she remembers. "You still remember the feeling?"

"Never did manage to find a way to forget it."

She closes her eyes, and presses her lips together, momentarily reveling in the honesty of his words. The tenderness behind them. The want that she knows they embody. She lets those words, and the memories that come with them, flood her, fill her, until she can neither think of nor feel anything in the world but him.

When he traces the curve of her lower lip gently with his thumb, she can't stop her mouth from parting for him again. "Open your eyes, A," he whispers, dragging his thumb back and forth against her lip. His voice is low, hoarse. He's starting to sound as desperate as she feels. _Good._ "You gotta look at me, baby." He kisses one of her cheeks, then the other. She squeezes her eyes shut, and grips the fabric of his shirt in both of her fists, not trusting her hands to be anything but locked in place. "Come on, now, sweetheart. No placeholders, remember?"

That gets her attention, and she opens her eyes, blinking over at him. Does he really think she'd be thinking of someone else in this moment? He's just an inch and a half away, so close that she can see every detail of him; so close that she can't see anything that's _not_ him. This is all she's wanted, all she's thought about all day. Why would there be anyone else here with her, for her, but him?

"You won't be a placeholder for me, and I won't be a placeholder for you." His promise is low and firm, and she can hear how hard he's trying to convince himself. She wants to tell him he doesn't need to bother; they don't need to masquerade this off as anything but what it is. But his hand is on her cheek still, caressing her skin, and he's so close to her, that it's hard for her to think about anything, let alone say anything. He strokes her face for a second more before dipping his head down to kiss her chin. And in that moment, she hates and loves him in equal measure for not yet touching her lips with his. "This is you and me, Allie. Just you and me here. Nobody else."

 _You sure about that?_ she wants to ask. His eyes are half-lidded in front of hers, and though he's moving pretty well, and speaking pretty well, she knows he's still seeing double. She knows the truth behind his noble intentions even if he won't acknowledge it. Sure, he's seeing her. And yes, this is between her and him.

But Jane's here, too, floating between them, fueling them. Hovering just out of sight, like all the other consequences of what they're about to do that will surface tomorrow. She's the reality poisoning the fantasy: sharp and bitter and ever-present, even when just at the fringes of perception.

Allison smiles a little to herself as she remembers her own private promise to Kurt from earlier, to eschew said reality and give him one last fantasy to live off of. After today, he deserves it. They both do.

"Sure, Kurt. Just you and me here."

x x x

 _And if you're in love, then you are the lucky one_

' _cause most of us are bitter over someone_

 _Setting fire to our insides for fun_

 _to distract our hearts from ever missing them._

x x x

 **Author's Note** : Thank you for reading! If you can leave detailed thoughts on the story (be they good or bad) below, it would be much appreciated! :)


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